Dead Squad: Season 2, book 3 - Family
by mandowriter
Summary: Tensions have bubbled over into anger, and Taler - Ex-Republic commando RC1133 formerly of Theta Squad - is in danger of losing control. Forced into a tactical retreat, the crew of the Trailbreaker take refuge in a hidden bunker on Mandalore with their prisoner. But the arrival of another ship tips the scales. Could this be the end of the road for Kyr'am and Taler?
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

 **Rough Landings**

 _"_ _Cabur Aliit"_

 _Mandalore_

 _Mandalore System_

The muzzle of the blaster pressed hard into the side of Kyr'am's temple as the wind whipped around them across the abandoned landing pad. The scream of the wind faded into background noise as the drives of the Consular class cruiser roared across the clearing. Rain lashed down around them in the growing gloom, the twilight world fading from view behind the blinding search light that was focused on Kyr'am and his captor. He could have broken free many times by now had it not been for the pain that was spreading through his heart.

His captor, the man who held him by the throat and was pressing the barrel of a gun against his head was Taler. Taler was his adopted son, the lost boy that he had taken under his protection, the one who had given so much to protect his new father. Kyr'am saw the glint of the light off his son's cybernetic hand and was reminded of how much he had already sacrificed.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By lying to him, and using him. Kyr'am had been trying to protect him from the truth, trying to give him a chance to live a life in the universe. But he had failed as a father, and now he stood at Taler's mercy.

The cold of the raging storm did not cause him to shiver. The bitter bite of the wind did not sting his face. But what hurt was the stabbing pain in his chest as his heart broke.

"Taler," he said softly, his voice half strangled by the pressure of Taler's arm against his neck. "Please, let's talk about this."

"No," Taler growled back, backing them away from the ship as it powered down. Kyr'am could see out of the corner of his eyes that Taler had his locked on the forward ramp of the ship, waiting for it to lower and the battalion of clone troopers to come flooding out. But it did not happen. A clanking of a metal panel and the sudden roar of jets echoed across the landing pad, and a silhouetted figure shot up from above the cockpit. It vanished into the sky, before rushing down through the blinding light and landing in front of them. They held two blasters, one in either hand, and both were trained on Taler's head.

Kyr'am felt Taler's arm tighten around his neck, and his whole body stiffened.

"I told you to stand down," the figure said calmly. "Don't make me ask again." The voice sounded muffled, as though it was coming through a speaker. In the blind panic, even Kyr'am thought it was an ARC Trooper.

"Dugg, stop," Kyr'am said quickly, taking one hand off Taler's arm and stretching it out in front of him. "Put your blasters away," he added quickly.

"You sure about that, old man?" the figure asked, a little confused.

"Just do it," Kyr'am growled. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the figure shrugged and with a flourish, twirled the blasters around his fingers and slipped them back into their holsters on his thighs.

Once done, he lifted his hands to his head and removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm and running his other hand through his hair. The engines finally fell silent as the ship powered down and the blinding spotlight flickered into darkness. It took a moment for Kyr'am's eyes to adjust to the sudden gloom, as he knew it would for Taler too. When he blinked away the blurriness, he found himself looking at a Mandalorian warrior, jet pack on his back still smoking from its exhausts, his purple armour dented and battered but still good.

Dugg Windaru, captain of the salvaged cruiser 'Storm-chaser', and fellow member of the Blood Reek Clan, stood before them, his brow creased in confusion. His armour was fairly standard, and painted a dark purple colour with the occasional dent and scratched surface. But the helmet had been modified, with the range finder having been removed and a sort of rectangular guard built around the edges of his visor. His dark hair was getting soaked by the rain, and a rough beard clung to the underside of his chin. A man in his early twenties, he did not look much older than Taler, and that thought hit Kyr'am like a Rancor punch. They may look the same, but while Dugg had lived, Taler had been grown, quickly. He had not had a life. He had been robbed even of that.

"Taler," Kyr'am said softly. "It's not the Republic, I swear. They are here to help."

"It's true, boy," Dugg said casually. "But it would be a might easier if you weren't holding a blaster to the old man's head. I mean, I have my own issues with this old thief, but..."

"Not helping, Dugg," Kyr'am hissed.

"Never said I was trying to, Kay," he responded.

"Taler, please. I'll explain everything, I swear," Kyr'am pleaded one last time. He held his breath as he waited. Finally, Taler's grip slackened, and ever so gently, Kyr'am pulled Taler's arm away from his throat. The blaster lowered, but it was not replaced in it's holster.

Kyr'am stepped away from him and turned to face him, hoping to catch his eyes. They met for a brief second, and Kyr'am could see the pain in his son's eyes. The pain he had caused. He reached out to him, hoping to begin mending the damage, but Taler backed away from them both, shaking his head, and his blaster still gripped in his hand, a silent threat to leave him be.

"Tal.." he began, but Taler cut him off.

"Just stay away from me," he hissed, his eyes ablaze and his voice shaking.

Silently, he disappeared up the ramp of the Trail-breaker.

"Nice lad. Friendly," Dugg said as he stepped beside Kyr'am and watched Taler vanish. Kyr'am fought back the tears that were stinging the edges of his eyes as the rain washed over his face. He knew that Taler would never trust him again.

"He hates me," Kyr'am whispered, the words tearing through his soul like a beskar blade.

"I thought that was a prerequisite for being a part of the clan," Dugg retorted, still looking casually at the small Corellian freighter.

It was one comment too far. Kyr'am's hand shot out from his side and grabbed hold of the figures neck plate, dragging him down to within an inch of his face and glaring into his eyes.

"This is not a joke, Dugg," Kyr'am growled.

"Easy, old man," Dugg said softly. "Cool your jets before you break something." Kyr'am pushed him away sharply.

"You don't get it do you," he yelled. "This is not just a tantrum. This is not rebelling. I wronged him. I lied to him and I let him down. I have failed as a father." Hearing the words in his own voice was the final nail in the coffin. He had admitted it out loud. The words could no longer be taken back. All the strength and self control he had left his body, and the tears fell freely from his eyes. Dugg stepped towards him and put his hand on Kyr'am's shoulder.

"Kay," Dugg said softly. "He's family. And we are family. We can work through this. We'll make him see what's right."

Kyr'am looked up through reddening eyes into the face of his friend, and for a fraction of a second he let himself hope that it could happen.

"And speaking of family," Dugg continued. He turned towards the Storm-chaser as the ramp finally lowered. Kyr'am followed his gaze and watched as three other figures emerged. One scampered across the floor on all fours, sniffing and leaping playfully as it tasted the air around the ship. It was a Nexu, and it snapped its jaws happily at the rain a it fell on its furry head. It stopped suddenly, sniffing the air, and its body tensed. Following closely behind was the Nexu's owner, though she would never claim to be so.

Clad in red and white armour, and with a mask resembling the visor section of a Mandalorian helmet hiding her face, Allim'adh'irola stopped at the base of the ramp. She noticed the Nexu frozen at the base of the ramp, something making her cautious. Her hand instinctively dropped to her holster. Finally, emerging like a moving wall of fur, the colossal form of of G'hrunk appeared, a grey haired Whiphid wearing brown leather Mandalorian armour, and a spear strapped to his back. He ignored both the girl and the creature and walked past them towards Kyr'am.

Stopping in front of him, he ducked down and hugged the old Mandalorian, growling something softly.

"Thank you, old friend," Kyr'am whispered. Pulling himself free, Kyr'am leaned around and looked towards the other two. "It's safe," he assured them. "I need your help down in the basement. A friend has been hurt bad."

She said nothing. Instead, she turned towards the house and vanished down the ramp, the Nexu bounding after her, its tail swishing from side to side as she followed the scent.

"I'm glad you're here," Kyr'am said softly. "Things are getting a little complicated..."

* * *

A deafening thud echoed through the narrow corridors of the Trailbreaker, and Taler clenched his metallic knuckles as they pressed against the now dented bulkhead of his bunk room. The cybernetic hand scraped against the metal wall, leaving claw-like marks in the dull grey surface. His forehead was pressed against the wall, and his eyes were closed tightly as he struggled to deal with the power of the anger that flooded his body. He had never been trained to deal with this, and for the first time in his life, he was scared of losing control.

Another surge rushed through his body as the image of the Quarren Jedi flashed in front of his closed eyes. His emotionless blue orb-like eyes, the arrogance in his face, and the condescension in his voice. Taler screamed and drew back his hands again and thrust them into the wall like a kicking Nerf. The echo dissipated through the doorway and out into the deserted ship. His mechanical arm shook silently, but his other hand felt wet. Drawing it back slowly, he saw the red smears across the wall, and a line stretched down towards the floor. His knuckles were covered in blood, and the rage had made him numb. He looked down at his bloodied hands and could feel nothing.

After a few moments, or maybe it was an hour – he could not tell – his mind seemed to snap back to the present, and his training kicked in. He had to clean the wound. Walking across to the small, hidden wash basin, he filled it with water and submerged his hand in the cold fluid. Rivulets of red lifted off his skin in the cold water, like serpents rising into the air. Soon the water was a faint shade of scarlet. He did not look up from the basin, knowing that if he did, he would have to look himself in the eyes, and he could not do that.

Instead he wrapped his hand in a towel and quickly closed the cupboard, turning away to face the rest of his cabin. It was small, it was cramped, it was the bare minimum of what he needed, and it had become his home over the past few weeks. Everything he owned was in this room, and could easily be packed away into a single pack should it be needed – and the idea had crossed his mind at least twenty times since he had retreated to the ship.

An hour had passed since the stand off on the landing pad, and his hands still refused to stop shaking. The anger in him would not dissipate, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more it seemed to grow stronger. It was growing out of control. Everything that had happened to him in his cruelly short life had left him feeling confused and betrayed. Every one he had met since Geonosis had used him for their own ends.

He threw the towel on the workstation and grabbed the container from underneath his bunk. Dropping it down onto the bunk itself, he popped the clips and looked down at the old republic commando armour that he had not worn for months. He never thought that he could miss it, but he did now. Life had been simpler for him in the Grand Army, he had been given orders, and he had been with his squad brothers – Vin, Jay, and Darman. But they were all dead now, their bodies left alone on Geonosis, Darman's lost to the darkness of the caverns – Taler had not been able to find his last brothers body in the rubble. He wished that he could go back to that life, but he had learnt so much about freedom since then, so much about how little the galaxy cared about the clones who fought for them, that he would never be able to re assimilate to their way of life.

He slipped the helmet onto his head and turned on the systems. Error symbols appeared on the boot up menu as he had already taken many of them out and fitted them to his new armour. It scrolled through and finished activating. Three red squares appeared on the right side of the screen, all flickering with static. There, he would have seen his squads view point, but now he saw nothing. Only Darman's seem to work, but it flashed with the words 'SIGNAL LOST'.

The helmet connected to the holonet and instantly began downloading the GAR data feed. It linked to each of the squads data feeds and updated each.

'RC1134 "VIN" - KIA'

'RC1135 "JAY" - KIA'

And at the bottom of his own screen more words appeared.

'ERROR. IDENT INVALID. RC1133 "TALER" - KIA.'

Even though he had suspected it before, seeing the words written out in front of him cut him deep. He was dead, if indeed he had ever been considered alive. He could not go back to the Grand Army of the Republic, and if he tried, they would kill him. A clone never left the Grand Army. They could not allow it to happen.

The more he thought about it, the simpler the solution became.

He was better off alone.

Slowly taking the helmet off and turning it to look through the 'T' visor, he saw his reflection staring back at him. He looked up at the Mando helmet that rested on the workstation across the room, the red visor glinting in the gloom, the three fresh gouges dragged across the visor. Turning, he placed the commando helmet next the the Mandalorian one. Closing the lids on the crate, and locking the catches, he lifted it up and carried it out of his cabin.

His footsteps grew weaker as he walked towards the cargo hold and the exit ramp.

* * *

The data feed in the helmet flickered as it updated every system. Darman's feed in the lower right hand corner flickered and suddenly flared into life.

'REACQUIRING SIGNAL... SIGNAL LOCK STRENGTH ONE - WEAK.

RC1136 DATA FEED CONNECTING... CONNECTED.

REVIVED FROM STASIS. REASSIGNED TO OMEGA SQUAD.

VERIFYING LOCATION... COMPLETE.

LOCATION: QIILURA, TINGEL ARM.

The screen flashed with static and suddenly there was a grey, grainy view of the inside of a modified transport. A small droid was sat in the pilot seat flying and three other figures in commando armour stood in the darkness. Through the forward view screen was the rolling hills of farmlands and homesteads. The whole scene jumped and a distant bang echoed from the helmets sound feed. One of the commandos moved to the front of the ship, and the view changed as the camera turned to the emergency hatch, a hand appearing on it in preparation.

"AA, Sarge?" a voice asked quietly on the link.

"Birdstrike," another replied. "Atmos engines fried."

"Can the R5 glide this thing down?"

"It's trying."

The image changed drastically as the deck seemed to tilt down sharply.

"No," Darman's voice said clearly. "That isn't gliding. That's crashing."

"Bang out. Bang out now."

The emergency hatch door opened and the night air rushed into the transport, swirling around the screen.

"Go, go, go," the sergeant's voice yelled.

Two commandos vanished through the doors in front of the screen, and the feed looked back at the sergeant.

"Now," he yelled. "You first."

"We need the kit," Darman replied. "Take these. I'll..."

"I said JUMP."

The view shuddered as Darman lunged forwards and when he looked up again the Sergeant had vanished through the hole, profanity echoing from the unit link before he fell out of range. A light flashed into life and the inside of the ship was lit up. Darman grabbed weapons and began strapping them frantically to his legs and his pack before dragging as much as he could to the entrance and throwing himself out into the darkness.

He fell, nothingness filling the screen.

The canopy deployed, a dull grunt of pain whispering from the comms.

The ship exploded as it slammed into the ground beneath him, and the image flipped violently as though suddenly pulled down. The world spun around, the ground rushed rapidly upwards, and trees appeared in front of the screen. Suddenly, it all went black.

'SIGNAL LOST...'


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

 **Old Friends**

 _"_ _Cabur Aliit"_

 _Mandalore_

 _Mandalore System_

Juel sat in the corner of the room on top of the crate that they had used to store their captives armour and weapons in, not once taking his eyes off the young woman who knelt beside Haze. Her hand gently resting on the Slice hound's neck to comfort her, the other holding the bandage against the weeping cuts across her ribs. The blood that had been caked across her face from the fight with the three beasts had been washed away gently by Juel as he had sat cradling her in his arms, her soft whimpering sounds breaking his heart with every beat. He could not bare to think about losing Haze, she was all he had in the universe.

A hand softly rested on his shoulder, and for the first time he had not been expecting it. He could hear almost anything with his incredibly sensitive ears, even the sound of ship entering orbit high above the planet. But he had not heard anyone approaching them. His worry over Haze had distracted him, and as the hand gently squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, he looked up.

"She's in good hands, Juel," Kyr'am said with an even voice, equal parts sympathy and compassion, but Juel could hear the worry quivering just beneath the surface. "Madhi has a way with animals. She knows what she's doing."

It was true. When she had walked in, she had been followed by a Nexu. Juel had never seen anyone able to control a Nexu the way that he had. The creature had walked in, its nose twitching as though it was following the scent of the injured Slice hound. Madhi silently pointed to the far corner, and without even a moment's hesitation, the feline beast did as she had commanded. There it had stayed then, its eyes trained on the tall girl and her patient.

Madhi had taken off her face mask and placed it on the box beside her, but with her back to Juel and the door, in the darkened room it was impossible to see any of her face. Green lensed goggles rested on her head, and her long brown hair was tied back in a plait that ran down to the middle of her back. Her red armour had a stripe of white across the chest, a pipe reached over her shoulder from the right side of her chest and plugged into her jetpack, and the grey kama around her waist was edged with a tattered blue line.

"Can I get you anything?" Kyr'am asked quietly. Juel could not find the words to speak and simply shook his head. "Okay. We're just upstairs if you need anything."

Juel nodded silently.

Kyr'am realised that there was nothing else he could say or do, and turned to leave the room, tapping the controls by the door, the hiss of the panel sliding open breaking the low, whispered breaths of the slice hound as she rested. He looked back over his shoulder and called out to the young woman.

"Madhi," he said softly. "Join us upstairs when you're ready." Madhi turned slightly to look back at him, her face still hidden in the shade of the room. The lights had been turned down low in order to help keep Haze feeling settled. Juel could barely see any features of her face, only the outline, which was soft smooth, the nose sweeping down to rounded lips, fading away to a sleek chin and neck. How she could see what she was doing in the darkness, he did not know. But he was thankful to her for trying.

Madhi nodded solemnly, still not uttering a single word. She had not made a single sound since she had entered the room over an hour before, apart from the soft _shush_ sound that she had used to calm the panic stricken Haze. After tirelessly cleaning the wounds and applying liquid patches to seal them and allow them to heal, she had simply knelt beside her, comforting her and giving her strength.

Another few minutes passed, and the door opened again. The light from outside was almost instantly blocked by a large figure that had to bend down to fit through the opening.

"I brought you some food," a deep gravely voice said from the door. Juel turned and found a shovel like hand holding a bowl of bread and meat beside him. He looked up into the wide jawed face of a Whiphid. He had seen his species many times in his travels, but never this close. They were an impressive race, and this one was no exception. At almost two and a half meters, he was one of the largest of his species, and the grey hair that covered his body made him look ancient and powerful. The Mandalorian armour he wore was made of a thick, dark brown leather, and the hilt of a sword stetched up over his right shoulder. His right eye was completely white, and a scar bisected it from his hairline to the edge of his jaw. He spoke Basic very slowly, as though every word was carefully chosen for its meaning.

Juel took the bowl from his hand and set it aside absent-mindedly.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Haze's breathing had settled into the soft rumble of slumber. Gently patting her on the neck, Madhi stood up and made to leave. Juel was taken aback by the abruptness of the movement and instantly assumed the worst.

"Is she okay?" he asked a little too panicked. Madhi did not stop, and the Nexu stood up from the corner and followed her as she slipped out through the door. Juel watched her go in confusion and turned quickly back to Haze. She was so still, her breathing barely moving her chest. He moved closer, almost to scared to reach out to her.

"She is strong," the Whiphid said finally with a smile, seeming to answer for Madhi. "Let her rest, she will grow stronger."

Juel's fingertips touched the course hair around her neck, the thick strands like a mane around her head. They brushed along her neck, down to her shoulder and across her back, feeling it slowly rise and fall with each breath. He sat down beside her and put his hand against the back of her ear. Her leg twitched instinctively as her body remembered how he used to scratch behind her ear. He had to stifle a sob as he half laughed at her. She had done it ever since she was a pup.

The Whiphid's heavy but gentle footfalls grew weaker as he walked back up the stairs, leaving Juel alone with his pet. Placing his hand on her chest, he sat and watched over her, making the same vow to himself that he had made all those years ago when he had found her in the jungles of Dom-Bradden, to never let anything happen to her again.

* * *

Jenna sat in the containment cell in silence, listening to the humming of the emitters that stretched up on each of the four columns around her. The hazy blue force field that shimmered in the gloom was brighter than the darkened room, and she could see nothing else beyond it, except for the dim orange glow of the doorway out into the corridor.

People had come and gone by the door, most of them not even acknowledging that she was even in the room as they passed. The only one who glanced in was a tall female Mandalorian in red and white armour that she had not seen before. She stopped outside the door, her face hidden behind a Mandalorian style face mask – something so unusual in itself that Jenna could not help but notice it. She looked down at where Jenna sat on the floor of the containment cell, her back resting against one of the upright pillars, and Jenna felt as though she was being scanned, the Mandalorian's eyes staring through to her soul from behind that black tinted visor. As she stood still, another shape raced by, low to the ground and animalistic in behaviour, its long tail ending in a fork that split in two. The female Mandalorian reached for the side of the door and tapped the controls, the door sliding shut with a quiet hiss, and a dull thud echoing through the room. She had locked the door.

Jenna did not know where they had come from, but took an educated guess that another ship had landed since she had been locked up. This threw up a few complications for her, but they were not impossible to work around.

Without fully knowing the size of the ship that had arrived, she had no way of guessing the strength of the enemy she now faced. It could be a single person speeder from somewhere else on the planet, or it could be an entire cargo transport with a crew compliment of twenty heavily armed Mandalorians.

The mission was rapidly becoming messy. She had worked with a number of expendable bounty hunters in her life, each one of them proving that armour, kit and tech meant nothing unless you had the training, skills, and brains that thousands of generations of nomad hunters have acquired. Just calling yourself a bounty hunter did not make you good at your job, and just wearing the armour did not make you a Mandalorian.

That was earned.

Mandalorians had become known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries and bounty hunters credits could buy, and that kind of reputation had been forge though millennia, from the Sith wars of the old republic to the Mandalorian Civil war. They were the best at what they did, because they had been trained to be by their fathers and mothers, like their ancestors before them. Jenna was no different. Her mother had been a warrior who had been born to a wealthy family on Balmorra, but had been adopted by a Mandalorian when her parents were killed in a failed kidnapping. Jenna had been brought up on the principles of the Mandalorian way of life, but had never quite understood the importance of family. She had always been better off on her own. It was how she liked it, and it had worked for her so far. She had not yet had a contract she had failed to complete.

However, things always got a little complicated when Mandalorians ended up on both sides of a contract, either defending the target, or in this case, being the target. Kyr'am was the target, and now he seemed to have an unknown number of supporters on his side.

But that did not mean it was impossible. She would just have to improvise.

First order of business was to break out of the containment cell.

Happy that everyone would be preoccupied with other things – Kyr'am with his new allies, the Sullustan with his hound – she gave herself two minutes at best to break out before being seen. She slipped the empty water pouch from beneath the pillow, the thin metallic material shimmering dully in the blue light of the field. Her hands still bound together in front of her, she held it in he fingers and used her teeth to rip the top and bottom, opening it out and creating a thin sheet about as big as her hand. Gently manipulating it with her fingers, she slipped it between the locks of the cuffs. Once in place, her fingertips having to hold it steady, she looked up at the containment field and inhaled deeply. This would hurt.

She stepped towards it and, with a final breath, stretched out her arms. The foil touched the shimmering wall of energy, and a blue spark flashed across the foil. It burnt her fingers, and she felt the skin blacken almost instantly. The energy flared through the foil, and between the cuffs, disrupting the locks, and making them open abruptly with a loud crack. The two wrist plates snapped off her arms and fell to the floor. Her arms were free.

Fourty seconds gone.

Next she had to disable the containment field. Her fingers still burning with the residual energy that had flashed through the foil, she grabbed one of the cuffs and pulled open the control panel that had ruptured as it had fried. Inside she could see wires and relays. She knew that they were linked to the containment system, and if she could isolate it, she could deactivate it.

Crouching down, she picked up the foil again, and rolled it tightly, turning it into a semi rigid needle. She slipped it between one of the relays, and looked up at the cell wall. Nothing changed. She pulled it out and slipped it into another and still nothing. The cuffs were dead and no longer connected. She realised she would have to use the same trick again. Putting the cuff on the floor with the open panel facing the wall of energy, she lined up the foil needle with it and then pushed both towards the cell edge. The foil touched the wall, and the cuffs flickered as power went back into it. But the foil heated up fast, and was soon glowing white, and it began to burn. Toxic smoke rapidly filled the cell, blue/black clouds of acrid poison taking away almost all the breathable air she had.

Jenna couched loudly, her lungs burning and her eyes stinging as the smoke stabbed at them. She could barely breath, and through her tears she could not see. Falling onto her side, she desperately tried to inhale the thin layer of clean air that had formed beneath the smoke. It grew dark quickly.

Safety protocols kicked in, and the containment cell deactivated, a fail safe that ensured no one died inside. Jenna stumbled off the raised square that the containment cell rested on, rolling across the now darkened room, coughing up the smoke that had collected in her lungs. She was out, but she was not safe. The fail-safe had probably set off an alarm somewhere else in the building, and she had very little time to recover. The sounds of hurried footsteps whispered from somewhere up through the metal deck beneath her, and with a determined but breathless push, she scrambled to her feet and dived for the door, hiding just to one side and wrapping her fingers around the extinguisher that hung there. She raised if above her head.

The door slid open and the stubby figure of the Sullustan raced in. He was only half a step inside when he began to turn to face her, his ears probably having picked up the beating of her heart. Without hesitation she brought the heavy cylinder down on the side of his head. There was a dull thud sound and he fell limply to the floor.

Dragging his body into the room, she checked that the corridor was clear, grabbed the pistol that was holstered on his thigh, and then stepped out, locking the door behind her.

Voices floated down the stairs from the rooms above.

Cautiously, she began to climb them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

 **Home truths**

 _"_ _Cabur Aliit"_

 _Mandalore_

 _Mandalore System_

"So it finally happened then?" Dugg said casually, leaning forwards on the big sofa and resting his elbows on his knees. His helmet had been placed on the seat beside him, and he looked down at the data pad that rested on the table in front of him. Kyr'am looked down too and on the screen he could see the slightly younger version of himself looking back at him. There were a lot fewer scars and lines of his face, and his hair did not have the distinct silver tone that it had since adopted. He almost did not recognise himself any more. Had he really changed that much?

"Looks like," he said quietly. Madhi leant against the doorframe, her mask still pulled down over her face. She had her arms folded across her chest tightly, but even now Kyr'am could see her clenched fists shaking in anger. She had become very protective of him since he had taken her in and accepted her into the Blood Reek clan. She still felt a sense of debt towards him, no matter how many times he told her that she did not owe him anything. The Nexu was sitting beside her, its tail swishing like the tongue of a reptile back and forth, its jaws open showing the rows of razor sharp teeth as it sensed her irritation.

"Took him long enough. How much?" Dugg asked finally.

"Enough to buy your ship legally at least fifteen times over," Kyr'am said grimly. It felt odd to be talking so casually about the price that had been put on his own head. He saw Dugg's eyebrow shoot up in surprise.

"Sounds about right for Soruu," he added, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "Looks like I owe Madhi here fifty credits. I thought you'd last at least another two years before he started getting thirsty for your blood."

"Best pay her then," Kyr'am replied with a humourless smile. Madhi did not react. She was still too angry. The Nexu began to whine softly, thinking that there was a hunt afoot. Kyr'am's eyes shifted towards the large, furry being that sat on the other side of the room to them. The Whiphid looked back at Kyr'am with its one good eye with a look of apology. Kyr'am shook his head kindly, a sad half-smile crossing his lips.

"So what's the plan?" Dugg asked casually.

"Plan?" Kyr'am asked, genuinely confused.

"Yeah," Dugg continued, shifting to the edge of his seat. "The plan to take down the lumbering space slug and drop him down into the fighting pits where he belongs? You know I've been waiting years for the chance to take him down, after everything he's done…"

"There is no plan," he said coldly. "He's too powerful for an all-out assault, and there aren't enough of us to pull off a covert raid. We might get in but we would never get out.

"Run then?" Dugg asked.

"There's no way that we can outrun all the bounty hunters in the galaxy for ever…"

"Aren't you exaggerating just a little bit?" Dugg said with a grin. "I know you think that Coruscant revolves around you, but you're not that important…"

"You saw the amount of credits he's offering," Kyr'am cut him off sharply. "You tell me that every trigger happy thug with a ship from here to the Outer rim isn't going to be looking for me."

Dugg was silent. Kyr'am guessed he could not think of anything to say at that moment. It was a first for him. Usually he had a comment for everything, it was one of his many traits that he thought was admirable, though everyone else thought was annoying.

"For now, I keep my head down and try to fix my own family," Kyr'am added with a sign, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he stared across the room, bridging his fingers in front of him and trapping the top of his nose between them. He felt them squeeze tightly, and he knew the skin there was turning white from the pressure.

"How can we help with that, then?" Dugg asked, sincerity in his voice, but a hint of irritation that they were not planning for a war with the Hutt. Dragging his eyes away from the nothing in front of him, Kyr'am looked up at his younger friend, his brow creasing as his eyebrows arched.

"You? Do nothing!" Kyr'am said as clearly as he could. "Madhi, make sure that Slice hound pulls through. She's done a lot more than she should have already, and I'm not going to be the one to tell Juel she's gone."

Madhi simply nodded her head slowly, reaching down to stroke the rough fur of her NExu as it sat happily beside her.

"And G'hrunk…" Kyr'am turned to where the Whiphid had been moments before and found an empty seat. Quickly looking around, he saw his shadow receding down the corridor towards the main door. For such a large creature, he could make himself almost invisible when he chose to.

Kyr'am was half way to standing up with the intention of following him when the wild, excitable squeaking of Sparky came racing into the room, followed a second later by the swirling blur of white and yellow as the astromech barged in.

"Not now, Sparky," Kyr'am began, but the little droid would not be silenced. He continued to squeak and tweet uncontrollably until Kyr'am was forced to put his hands up in surrender and return to his seat. The droid spun its head around wildly until it stopped with the holo-projector aimed down at the small table in front of them. It flickered slowly into life – he was an old droid after all, and many of his systems were suffering from lag.

On the table, in the middle of the beam of light, a figure appeared. Tall and thin, and their green skin and large eyes recognisable as Neimoidian, Kyr'am found himself looking down at Relnar once more. The figure was paused, which told him that it was a recording, a saved message.

"Sparky, you've already shown me this message," Kyr'am said, a little annoyed at being shown the same thing again. The astromech made the most derisive sound it could possibly make, an electronic raspberry, and tweeted that it was a new message.

Kyr'am felt his brow crease. He had received a message from Relnar only a few hours before, and he had not had a chance to reply. Why would there be another?

The recording began to play.

' _Hello again, Bounty hunter,_ ' the Neimoidian said. ' _I apologise for the brashness of my last message to you. Hopefully you can understand my annoyance at the loss of a rather large amount of weapons and the credits that were invested into the deal._ ' Kyr'am noted that he said nothing of the lives of the crews that had died during the firefight on Hoth. Obviously the value of their lives was outweighed by the amount of credits he lost. Ne was Neimoidian after all, and like Toydarians, all they cared about was money. ' _However, upon reflection, I have decided that my reaction was in haste._ '

"A Neimoidian who changed his mind?" Dugg said surprised, arching on of his eyes brows. Kyr'am looked across at him, giving him the same suspicious look.

' _We made a deal, and though it did not pan out the way that we were expecting, you still held up your end by delivering the goods to the drop point. Therefore I will hold up my end of the bargain. I have found the slicer you requested and am transmitting the coordinates for you to rendezvous with them. It shouldn't take you more than a day to reach there from where you are. I am doing this at extensive personal cost, but what's a few credits between friends._ '

Relnar smiled an unpleasant smile and the recording paused as it came to the end of the message. Kyr'am looked down at the image a few moments longer before looking up at the other Mandalorians gathered in the room. Dugg's face was a picture of concern and anger, and Madhi's body language exuded irritation.

"A Neimoidian who writes off a debt?" Dugg said in a half whisper.

"He's not writing off a debt," Kyr'am said angrily. "He's got something else in mind. He's always playing both sides to make sure he gets the best profit. But that's not the bit that concerns me…"

Kyr'am stood up and walked over towards the door, looking along the corridor towards the main entrance to the bunker. A little weak light filtered through from the stormy skies beyond, and he could hear the rain slapping against the ground outside. He turned back to look at the hologram that still stood silently on the table.

"He knows where we are," he said.

* * *

Taler stepped down the loading ramp of the Trailbreaker, a large sack slung over his shoulder, and stood beneath the hull as the rain continued to hammer down on the silent ship. Each droplet fell against the metal skin of the space-faring beast and erupted in a transparent explosion. In the distance, hidden by the swaying tops of the trees, he could hear the steady rumble of thunder as it drifted across the wind, the lightning flashing only a moment before the rumbling reached his ears. Taler felt his pulse quicken, the flashes and the reports sounding like a distant battle, one that called to him, but also scared him. All he had ever known was war, and in his heart he knew he would always be a soldier. But at the same time, he wished he could just walk away from it, cut it out of him and leave it behind.

Another thunder clap echoed across the landing pad, and as he looked around the edge of the clearing, he realised that he had no idea which way to go.

The largest settlement anywhere near the compound was the capital of Mandalore, Keldabe. Without directions or at least a map, he was in danger of getting lost in the woods that had acted as a natural shield for Kyr'am's home. His eyes scanned across the clearing, wondering if he could see any sign of the right way to go. But he could see nothing. Obviously the only way in or out of the area was by air.

As he looked, his eyes fell on the other ship that had landed there, the salvaged Consular class cruiser that towered over the Trailbreaker and almost poked out above the tree tops. The old off-white and dark red paint had long since been removed and an orange wing like design had been put in its place over the grey panels. The loading ramp at the front was still open, and inside, Taler saw something that he knew would be of advantage to him.

Breaking out from underneath the Trailbreaker and crossing the landing pad, he stepped quickly up the ramp and into the loading bay that was beneath the cockpit. Inside, he found the usual supplies he expected to find on a vessel reconfigured for bounty hunting and mercenary work: ammunition, spare weapons, shock collars in various sizes, stun cuffs, traps, containment cells and the like. The ship was actually a very good choice, as it had been designed to withstand a lot before it began to fail. The republic had put a lot of effort into keeping their envoys safe when they went on diplomatic missions. Taler had learnt all this during his flash training on Kamino, and even though he found it useful, the more he realised how much he had been manipulated and warped, the more he grew to resent his abilities.

Walking past the first few crates that he had no interest in, he made his way to the back of the loading bay where he had seen something he had recognised. As he neared it, he knew he had been right. It was the front fin of a speeder bike, a KingFin 720.

That was his way out of there.

Putting his pack down on the deck beside one of the crates, he stepped towards the speeder bike and slipped his hand underneath the front panel, looking for the activation switch.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," a deep, growling voice said from somewhere in the gloom at the rear of the loading bay.

Taler turned sharply towards the source of the voice, his hand dropping instinctively to Vin's blaster that was holstered on his leg, his hand freezing as it felt the grip press against his palm.

"It's okay, boy," the voice said softly. "No need for that." As if to put him at ease, the figure stepped forwards out of the darkness, and into the dim pool of light around the speeder bike.

Taler craned his neck upwards as he found himself looking into the grey fur-covered face of a Whiphid.

"We need to talk, you and I."

* * *

Jenna pressed her back against the wall at the top of the staircase to the basement. She had recovered her armour and was happily wearing it once more. It had been stored in one of the smaller rooms in the basement area, and she had had little trouble in finding it. Her weapons were still missing, probably locked up in some other place just in case this sort of thing happened. It was only sensible, and from what she had seen of her target up to now, he most definitely that. For now she would have to do without her blasters and blades. She was good enough with her fists anyway.

At the top of the stairs, she could hear voices filtering down from the central chamber off to the left. There were more than she thought there would be. One, she recognised as that of Kyr'am, the man she had been sent to bring back to Soruu, but there were others as well. She knew that they could not be the voice of the Sollustan, as he still lay unconscious on the floor of the holding cell room where she had left him. She guessed that it had to belong to the new arrivals that she had yet to see. Judging by their voices though there was at least two people there.

To the right, she could hear the light patter of raindrops on permacrete. The sound would hide her own footsteps as she made her escape, but it also could be hiding the sounds of anyone approaching the bunker. It was a risk she would have to take. Leaning back against the wall a moment longer, she inhaled deeply, remembering when they had landed and trying to recount the amount of steps she had taken from the freighter to the bunker door. Estimating it at about fifty, she calculated that the battered old ship was about seventy five feet away, a distance she could cover easily in a few seconds. Once aboard the ship, she would then have to slice the controls in order to disable the landlock and allow herself to fly the ship away.

Ducking out through the doorway into the corridor, hugging the wall as tightly as she could, she slipped out through the main entrance, and once outside she crept slowly up the ramp to the landing pad. As she neared the end of the slope, and could see over the wall at the side, a looming shape drew into view. Cast against the angry, stormy sky, a tall, narrow tower cut into the grey clouds at the centre of the clearing. Her eyes widened as she recognised more and more about the ship. Shock filled her body as realisation dawned. Stepping out onto the landing pad proper, she found herself looking up at a Republic Consular class cruiser.

Had the old man really done it? Had he sold his own son out to the Grand Army?

The idea stunned her into stillness.

Of all his talk of honour and family, had he simply been keeping the soldier around as a bargaining chip? Had he rescued him, taken him in and called him his own, only to then turn him over when he needed the credits?

Approaching footsteps filtered up from the entrance to the bunker and her survival instincts kicked in. She realised that she was very exposed, standing in the rain in the middle of the landing pad. Making a rush decision, she turned towards the Consular class cruiser and darted for the loading ramp. Under the shelter of the hull, and in the relative safety of the gloomy loading bay, she ducked behind one of the weapons crates.

She looked out at the landing bay and watched as a large, white-furred Nexu leapt up from the ramp to the bunker, its eyes half closed, its rows of teeth bared, and its nostrils sniffing at the wet, humid air.

"How many animals do they have here?" she whispered to herself.

It was a bad move. The Nexu stopped suddenly, its ears twitching lightly, and it turned its head towards the loading ramp. Jenna looked back and felt her eyes lock with the creature. Slowly and as quietly as she could, she pressed herself deeper into the cover of the weapons crates, letting the darkness of the loading by hide her. The creature crouched lower to the ground, the spines that ran the length of its back dropped flat against its fur, and its tail became stiff. It began to crawl forwards, never once moving its eyes from the dark spot behind the crates.

Jenna began to get worries. She had no weapons to defend herself, and Nexu were too powerful to fight off by hand.

It got closer with every passing second, it's padded feet now on the baottom of the loading ramp, and Jenna could feel her heart hammering in her chest so loud she was sure that it could be heard all the way across the landing pad. It took every ounce of strength not to leap up and run for the cover of the woods.

The Nexu suddenly stopped, its head tilting to the side as it looked up questioningly just a little to the side of where Jenna was hiding. It blinked a few times before the spines began to raise and it appeared more relaxed. It was only then that Jenna realised what had stopped it.

Voices.

She could hear voices coming from deeper inside the loading bay. Voices coming from behind her. The Nexu obviously recognised the voices, and with a few more suspicious sniffs at the air, it turned away and bounded off towards the bunker once more. With one threat now gone, Jenna turned to focus on the other. Leaning out a little from behind the weapons crates, she looked through the gloom and saw a Whiphid sitting on a pile of boxes towards the rear of the bay, talking to someone who was hidden from her by other boxes.

Edging deeper into the loading bay, she listened to the voices as they spoke in the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

 **A man of Honour**

 _"_ _Cabur Aliit"_

 _Mandalore_

 _Mandalore System_

Taler continued to prepare the speeder bike as the Whiphid stood watching him. He had not had much of a chance to actually see the creature before, but out of the corner of his eye, he was taking in every aspect of him.

Extrapolating his height from the loading bay and the crates around him, Taler could already tell that the Whiphid was over eight feet tall. He was reaching the higher limits of his species, which meant that he was an older being, though the layers of grey fur that covered his body could have easily told Taler his age. His two lower tusks that protruded from his wide mouth were yellowing and rounded, though they still looked dangerous. He wore armour on his upper torso, the chest plates and shoulder plates loyal to the Mandalorian design, though they were made from a toughened brown leather, attached to an almost black vest beneath. Dark brown leather forearm plates were edged by dulled brass, and a tattered loin cloth hung from his belt. The handle of a blade protruded from his right shoulder, but there was no sign of any other weaponry on his person.

This fact alone was odd. In his artificially shortened life, he had not yet seen a Mandalorian who was not carrying at least four different types of weaponry, usually blaster or projectile, and that was just counting the visible ones. To find a being who proudly wore the armour of the Mandalorians, but chose to not follow in their stereotypical lust for weapons and kit, was a rarity.

However, the thing that Taler noticed the most was that one of his eyes were white with blindness, a vicious looking scar bisecting the skin above and beneath, stretching from just beneath his hairline to the corner of his mouth.

"Taking everything in, boy?" the Whiphid said casually, standing still in the centre of the loading bay. Taler had thought he had been surreptitious about his observations, but it seems that the creature had been letting him look. This irritated Taler more than he thought.

"You said you wanted to talk," Taler said acidly, the anger that still coursed through his veins making it impossible for him to hide it from his voice. He did not like the feeling of not being in control of his own body. He had spent his entire life learning how to be the best soldier, the master of his fears and feelings, but now he was discovering that he had only mastered the ones that the Kaminoan's had let them believe they had.

"Mind if I sit down?" the Whiphid said softly, pointing to one of the crates beside him. His calm manner ebbed through the air, and Taler even felt his heart rate soften a little. Turning his head to look at him, he nodded, grudgingly.

The giant creature ducked down and rested his hand on the crate, supporting his weight as he lowered himself onto the solid surface. He sighed loudly as he relaxed.

"Not as young as I used to be," he said with a lilting pur, the corners of his mouth curling into what Taler could only suspect was a smile.

"What do you want, Whiphid?" Taler snapped. He was in no mood to be patronised, especially by so called friends of Kyr'am's. The creatures eyes narrowed and the smile faded, as though it had never been there at all.

"My name is G'hrunk," he growled, baring his teeth. "And you will do well to remember that, boy." He leaned back until his back was pressed against the wall.

Taler decided that he did not want to look at him, and returned to his work preparing the speeder bike. Disconnecting the power chargers and the fuel lines, and removing the webbing that was being used to keep it in place when it was not in use, he noticed the custom side bag that had been attached to the frame, and the faded yellow paint that was beginning to chip around star-splashes of black where blaster fire had scorched the panels.

G'hrunk simply sat and watched him toil. After a few more moments of silence, the Whiphid spoke again.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"I don't know," Taler said, pausing for a heartbeat as the sudden realisation hit him. He had no idea where he would go. "Away from here. Away from him." He spat out the last words with all the rage he felt inside, the image of Kyr'am flashing in front of his eyes.

It confused him. He had been treated so badly all his life, blinded to the mistreatment of men like him by others by biological programming designed to make him obedient. He had been used as cannon fodder, he had lost his unit, his family, and he had been cast aside as though he was a worthless, spent weapon. Kyr'am had been the only man his entire life who genuinely seemed to care about him and what happened to him, and yet Taler still felt blinded by the fact he had lied to him. It was such a small thing compared to what others had done to him, but he could not shake it.

Another image flashed in front of his face and it was of Kyr'am looking back at him from behind the barrel of a blaster. Etched into the lines of his face, Taler could see his heart breaking. He shook his head to clear it from his eyes. Another feeling swept over his body and he gritted his teeth as he tried to push it away. It was guilt. He was feeling guilt for holding a gun to Kyr'am's head, the man who had rescued him.

It was all getting too much for him. He had to get away.

"I understand your anger," G'hrunk said softly. Taler snapped.

"What?" he yelled, turning to face the Whiphid, his hands balled into fists by his side, the metallic fingers of his prosthetic arm scraping loudly against his palm, leaving little grooves in the durasteel. Taler had had enough of people thinking they knew how he was feeling. "How the hell do you know what I've been through? How can you even understand?"

G'hrunk looked back at him with his one good eye, the other white and glassy like the blizzards that raged across Hoth. His eyes narrowed. Taler felt his hand slip closer to the holster on his thigh as he prepared for the giant creature to attack him. But the attack did not come. G'hrunk leaned forwards, resting one of his elbows on his knee and pointing towards his white eye.

"Do you know how I go this?" he growled. "Many cycles ago, at the end of the harvest, my village was attacked by mercenaries. They came in the night, looking for something we did not have. We were unprepared. Some of us tried to fight back, but there were too many of them and they had stronger weapons than we did. We were defeated. They rounded us up, took the females and the children to the caves to the south of the village, and they made us watch as they forced them into the tunnels and then blew up the mountain. I watched my wife and child die in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop them."

Tears rippled in the corner of the Whiphid's eyes, the memory of that day, and the scars they had left as fresh now as they had been then.

"The mercenaries took the strongest of us that were left and sold us to a gangster. His name was Soruu."

The name struck Taler like a speeder crash. It was the Hutt that the female mandalorian had been working for when she had chased him on Nar Shaddaa. It was the Hutt who had put out a contract on Kyr'am.

"They threw us into the pit and made us fight one another for their sport," G'hrunk continued. "We had no choice. I tried to resist them, and not do as they wanted, but when I refused to fight, they did this to me," he said, pointing to the scar that ran down the side of his face, and the white eye at its centre. "They held me down and put a blaster to my cheek. The last thing I ever saw with my eye was the smile of that vile slug as he ordered they take my sight. After that, they threw me back into the pit. I fought for so long I lost track of how long I had been there. I killed to stay alive, my anger sustaining me, always hoping that one day I could have my revenge against those who had taken everything from me. So don't you dare think that I don't understand what you are going through, boy," he added with a threatening flash of his teeth.

For a long time, neither said anything. Taler stood in silence, the guilt and anger he had felt subsiding into shame as he looked at the aging Whiphid. The tale had seemed to take its toll on him, and in the few moments that had passed, he had visibly ages before Taler's eyes. Eventually, Taler had to ask.

"How did you escape?" he said in a half whisper. G'hrunk looked up at him with a sorrowful smile.

"One day, a Mandalorian arrived at the pit edge," G'hrunk remembered. "He did not seem out of place with the others who watched, but there was something different about him. He was not so much watching, as he was looking for something, or someone. It was a small crowd that day, and many of them were not paying attention to what was happening in the pit. I had been placed against a wookie named Moag, a being I had come to know well. We had fought alongside many times. But now we were enemies. They had placed me against my friend, and told to fight to the death, and they just talked about deals they had struck. I had been fighting for so long, I couldn't do it anymore.

"I threw my blade down and stood before him, waiting for him to deal the final blow," G'hrunk continued, more tears rippling the corners of his eyes. "But it never came. He threw me to the floor and as I lay there, he nodded up at the Mandalorian who dropped smoke grenades into the pit. The place erupted in smoke and everyone was blinded. In the commotion, I felt myself picked up off the floor by Moag, and I was dragged to the tunnel that led to the underground passages. The Mandalorian was waiting there for me. Moag lifted the gates and told the Mandalorian to get me out. He tried to talk Moan into coming with us, saying he could save us both, but as he spoke, the smoke began to dissipate.

"Droids and the pit trainers ran towards us. Moag dropped the gates and told us to run. I stumbled along, half blinded by the grenade fumes, being supported by this Mandalorian I had never met. I looked back in time to see Moag fighting with the droids, pulling them apart with his bare hands. As we rounded the corner, I heard a volley of blaster shots.

"We emerged from the tunnels in a canyon many miles to the south of the compound, and there the Mandalorian helped me onto his ship. We made for space, and we disappeared into the outer rim. People risked their lives for me that day, and I owe them my life."

"Who was it?" Taler asked quietly, though inside he already knew.

"Kyr'am," G'hrunk said softly. The words hung in the air like a shadow in front of Taler. His rage still boiled inside him at the thought that he had been betrayed, first by the Jedi, and then by Kyr'am. Yes he had lied to him, but it was from some misguided need to protect him from a horrible truth. Had he been so wrong? Had Taler judged him too harshly?

His emotions were swirling around so much he felt himself drowning in a whirlpool of confusion. He had to get away.

Reaching down, he grabbed hold of the canvas bag he had dragged from the Trailbreaker, hearing his old republic commando armour clanking against itself inside, and tied it down to the back of the speeder bike. He turned it on and it hummed into life, bobbing up and down on its repulsors.

"I know that you are feeling conflicted," G'hrunk said kindly, standing up from his seat on the crate. "You were not given the life you deserve, and you have been betrayed by everyone you knew. But there are some people in this universe who want to give you that life back. Kyr'am is one of them. Don't judge him too harshly, for a little mistake."

G'hrunk sighed deeply and turned away from Taler, vanishing into the darkness at the back of the loading bay, and leaving Taler alone with his thoughts. In the silence, all Taler could hear was the sound of the rain, and the beating of his heart.

* * *

Jenna was in shock. She sat silently behind the weapons crates, trying to process everything that she had just heard.

Whenever she took a contract, she never asked for the how or the why. All she cared about was getting it done and collecting the credits that she was owed. Each job was one step closer to buying her freedom from the slimy hands of Soruu, who she had been in debt to for most of her adult life.

But now she was beginning to question that. The reason Soruu wanted Kyr'am so badly was because he had freed one of his prize fighters. But it was more than that. Kyr'am had humiliated him in his own home, he had come in and made a fool out of him. That wound was not one that would go away, especially for a Hutt.

Did she still want to follow through with this contract? Could she still hand Kyr'am over to Soruu knowing that the reason he had a price on his head is because he had done what was right?

Whatever she would decide, it would have to wait. She was still in danger. She had to find a way to get out before she was discovered. She could make up her mind after.

Looking back down the loading bay, she watched as the clone stood still over the speeder bike. He was just standing there, staring down at his hands in front of him, one real, the other metallic. Deciding he was distracted enough, she edged her way back along the wall, sticking to the shadows, and slipped down the loading ramp. As she rounded the corner, she saw the Nexu stepping out from behind one of the landing struts, its eyes locked on her and its spines lowered flat against its back. Slowly, she backed away from it, holding her hands wide and trying not to make any sudden movements.

She had barely taken three steps backwards when she head a gentle cough. Spinning around quickly, she found herself face to faceplate with a female Mandalorian. She did not have time to think. The Mandalorian punched her hard in her stomach, making her double over sharply. Just as suddenly, they then brought their knee up quickly and slammed it into her face.

Jenna felt her nose break. She felt the warm splash of blood across her lips as it poured from her broken nose. Her head snapped backwards as the power of the blow made her stand upright again, before she fell backwards onto the landing pad, falling onto her back in a puddle of rainwater. Blackness closed in around her, and she slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

 **A Father's pain**

 _"_ _Cabur Aliit"_

 _Mandalore_

 _Mandalore System_

Kyr'am and Dugg were still sat in the central chamber of the bunker talking when the Nexu came bounding in to the room. It bounced around like a ball of energetic mirth, its jaws wide and its tail swishing back and forth, getting dangerously close to knocking everything off the shelves beside the door.

"What the hell…?" Dugg began, but his words were cut short when he looked up and saw Madhi walking into the room, dragging an unconscious body along beside her. Holding the body by the collar of their armour, she seemed to be having no problem at all lifting the weight. A few steps into the room, she came to a stop and looked at both of them for a moment.

"Found this," she said simply, her voice monotone and uncaring. She let her grip slacken and the body fell to the floor. It slumped onto the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

Kyr'am and Dugg stared down at the body dumbfounded. It was Jenna, the prisoner who they thought was still locked up in the containment cell downstairs. For long, painful moments, they just stared in silence.

"You're welcome," Madhi said evenly, before turning away from them and walking back out of the room. The Nexu lingered a few moments longer, its tail still swishing excitedly, its tongue hanging out, and its eyes darting from the unconscious body to the two Mandalorians as they sat on the couch. Eventually realising that it would not be allowed to eat the body, it turned and bounded back out the room after its master.

Kyr'am was the first onto his feet, crossing the room and kneeling beside the unmoving body. He rolled her over onto her front and saw the damage to her face that Madhi had caused. Her nose was almost definitely broken, and there was a painful looking split on her lip that was still oozing blood onto the carpet.

Worry flooded Kyr'am's mind as he suddenly put two and two together.

"Dugg," He said quickly, turning to face his friend. "Go down and check on Juel."

Dugg did as he was told and ran through the door, vanishing down the stairs that lead off from the main corridor. His footsteps faded as Kyr'am stood up and went to the locker at the back of the room. Opening it, he took out some stun-cuffs and locked them into place around Jenna's wrists, her arms now bound behind her back. Once she was secure, he sat her up against the wall, making sure that she could not choke on her own blood, her head drooping forwards limply, her chin resting against her chest.

A few moments later, Dugg came back into the room, Juel beside him, his arm draped over Dugg's shoulder, his other hand pressed against his head as he groaned loudly.

"I found him on the floor in the cell block," Dugg said calmly. "This was next to him," he added, holding up the extinguisher. "I'm guessing our friend here used it as a club."

"Do you have to talk so loud?" Juel grumbled. As a Sullustan, his hearing was better than other species, and in his current state, even whispering would seem like yelling.

"Sorry," Dugg said casually. "You're lucky she's not from the Outer Rim. I've heard that clubbing someone across the head is a form of mating ritual in some cultures."

"She's not my type," Juel said groggily as Dugg lowered him onto the sofa. Kyr'am fixed him a drink and handed it to Juel, dropping a couple of tabs into his palm.

"Take these, they'll help." The Sullustan did not question him. He threw the tabs into his mouth and washed them down with the drink he had been given. After a moment of blurriness, Juel seemed to suddenly remember something vital, and went to stand up quickly.

"Haze?" he snapped. Dugg was faster than him, and his hand shot out,grabbing him by the shoulder and gently pressing him back down onto the seat.

"She's fine," he said reassuringly. "Madhi is with her now. Just take it easy." Juel visibly relaxed, his shoulders going slack as he let himself fall back against the couch.

A groan broke the silence, and Kyr'am and Dugg turned towards Jenna as she sat on the floor against the wall. Her head was swaying slightly as she began to regain consciousness, her breathing sounding pained. Kyr'am gave Dugg a silent nod that told him to stay with Juel while he sorted out their guest.

Crossing the room, Kyr'am squatted down in front of Jenna and tilted his head to look beneath her orange hair that hung limply in front of her face.

"Have you taken lessons in annoying people, or are you just naturally gifted?" he asked calmly.

She slowly began to raise her head, and looked up at him from between the strands of hair. Her nose had already started to bruise and looked painfully out of place. Kyr'am could not help but feel a little sorry for her. Madhi always had been a shoot first and ask questions later kind of person.

"This might hurt a little," he said kindly. He reached out and grabbed hold of her nose, and in one swift motion, twisted it back into place. There was a wet _shluck_ sound and Jenna let out a single pained cry. A trickle of fresh blood seemed from her nostril, but now her breathing sounded less wheezy. Blinking away the tears that had started to trickle from the corners of her eyes, she suddenly seemed to notice who it was that was kneeling in front of her.

Her eyes widened.

"I… You… Umm…" she stammered. Kyr'am had no idea what was going on. "Thank you," she finally said in a whisper. This last comment confused Kyr'am even more. He had never been thanked by a prisoner before.

Jenna looked up at him for a long time, her eyes seeming to dart around his face, looking for something. What she was looking for, Kyr'am did not know, but the scrutiny was unnerving. She looked away from him towards the door and her eyes locked still. Kyr'am turned to look and he saw the large, furry form of G'hrunk standing in the doorway. He looked back at Jenna, and she looked away. Kyr'am thought he could see shame on her face, but it was hard to tell with all the blood.

"Dugg, can you take out guest back to her room, and maybe help her get cleaned up?" Kyr'am said. Dugg shrugged and did as he was asked. Walking over to her, he grabbed her by the arm and helped her to her feet. She was very unsteady as she walked, and Dugg had to support her as they left. Kyr'am watched them go. They walked past the Whiphid who stepped aside. It was only then that Kyr'am noticed what G'hrunk held in his hand.

Held in his shovel like palm, Kyr'am saw a white Mandalorian helmet, with three gouge marks stretching down across the visor. His eyes snapped up to G'hrunks, and they met. Kyr'am knew already what it meant.

He dashed for the door and out onto the landing pad.

* * *

Taler stood beside the speeder bike as it hovered a few feet off the ground on the edge of the clearing, his old republic armour strapped to the back, his brothers blasters tied to his thighs, and his brown bantha hide jacket gently flapping in the wind. The rain still fell, but the canopy of the forest kept him mostly dry.

The silent hum of the repulsors merged with the whispering wind that weaved through the woods. But all he could hear were the words G'hrunk had said, the story he had told him. He fought with everything inside, his anger, his hatred, his rage, his guilt. They swirled around inside him, a vortex of pain and suffering that he wished he could just cut out of him like a tumour.

Had he really been so wrong about Kyr'am? Had his rage towards the Jedi and what they had done to him blinded him to anything good in the galaxy? He had to make sense of what he was feeling, but he knew that until he cleared his mind, if he stayed around Kyr'am, he would never be able to trust him again.

From the edge of the clearing, he looked back across the landing pad towards the ships that were sitting in the rain, the water flowing over the hull and falling from the sides like waterfalls. The ramp that led down towards the bunker was between them, and as he watched, two figures appeared, one human, the other much bigger. The first ran out onto the landing pad, and looked around furiously. Taler backed away into the shadows of the forest.

They began to cry out.

"Taler?" they yelled. It was Kyr'am, his voice floating along on the wind, reaching Taler's ears as though from another time. "Taler? Where are you?" he cried.

It took all of his strength not to reply. He could not go back.

Backing further away until he was almost swallowed by the dark of the woods, he mounted the speeder bike, it bobbing a little as he did so.

" _Talika_ ," he cried. "Please!"

Taler's hands were shaking. He did not know it if was the cold of something else. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his head was screaming at him to go back. Looking back once more over his shoulder, he kicked the throttle of the speeder bike into gear and it shot forwards, away from the bunker, away from the Trailbreaker, and away from Kyr'am.


End file.
